


Hellfire

by rebelwriter6561



Category: Good Omens
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short domestic drabble about a concept mentioned in Dr. Faustus</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellfire

_Why this is hell, nor am I out of it:_  
 _Think’st thou that I who saw the face of God_  
 _And tasted the eternal joys of heaven_  
 _Am not tormented with ten thousand hells_  
 _In being depriv’d of everlasting bliss_  
~Mephistopheles, Doctor Faustus

There is an everlasting heat, deep down, residing in all demons. They carry Hell with them no matter how far they go or how long they are away. It is a physical internal reminder that they are damned, for all eternity. 

Crowley occasionally likens it to constant heartburn, burning his gut and occasionally throat. Some days it is worse than usual, causing Aziraphale to observe Crowley drinking glass after glass of cool water in a vain and useless attempt to quell the fire. 

There are nights when Aziraphale wakes in discomfort, feeling the heat of Crowley’s breath searing his shoulder. In the morning he brushes his hand over the affected skin, feeling the bumps and distortions caused by exposure to high temperature. He can never find it in himself to bless away the imperfections.

Sometimes he can taste brimstone on Crowley’s lips. 

On dreary winter days, when the bookstore’s heater refuses to work even under threat of bereavement, Crowley comes to Aziraphale while he’s fixing his old books. He pulls the angel’s cold fingers away from the texts and kisses them, his golden eyes as warm as his breath. Warming the tips, he calls Aziraphale “Jacob Marley” and smiles.

Crowley, against all the impracticalities regarding his reptilian origins, needs no heavy trappings for the winter months. A thin coat that only accentuates and draws attention to his human form is all he needs. Whenever his angelic friend gives him a questioning look, Crowley simply smiles and taps his chest.

Later those frigid nights the demon and the angel lay together, and Aziraphale doesn’t mind the searing heat against his shoulder. They lay close, sharing Crowley’s heat, and if some of Aziraphale’s Heavenly Grace happens to gently caress the demon’s skin, neither complains.


End file.
